Booth's Bad Day
by MsJDarcy
Summary: Sometimes you just have a bad day. Booth’s bad day involves running into a glass door, diplomatic immunity and a rebellious coffee machine. Just a little piece of silliness.


Title: Booth's Bad Day  
Author: MsJDarcy  
Rating: K  
Fandom: Bones  
Pairing(s): General  
Disclaimer: Bones and the characters therein are the property of Kathy Reichs, Fox and their associates. I have no ownership, am not making any money from this and have no intention of doing so  
Summary: Sometimes you just have a bad day. Booth's bad day involves running into a glass door, diplomatic immunity and a rebellious coffee machine. Just a little piece of silliness.  
Author's Note: I got bored one day and decided to download a prompt table. I spotted the prompt 'bad day' and then got the image of Booth running into a glass door…

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Booth swore as his body slammed into the glass doors of the Jeffersonian's Medico-Legal lab. Apparently the automatic sliding doors weren't working today. He flung open the manual door next to the seemingly inoffensive hazard and strode inside. He grumbled something about warning signs as he stormed past the security guard who was trying his best not to laugh at the image of the invincible agent running into a door.

To say that Booth was having a bad day would be an understatement. To describe his patience as being tried would be merely brushing over the true extent of his frustration. Let us not even contemplate attempting to explain his mood.

Booth's day had begun innocently enough - the alarm clock went off on time and the water in the shower was hot. It was not until he opened the fridge that he discovered the first peril of working on a case that involved 4 days spent out of town driving on unsealed dirt roads. His milk had gone off and the smell in the fridge was nauseating. He discovered the second peril when he left the house - his SUV had a flat tyre.

Through the clever use of sirens, Booth made it to work on time and when he spotted a new secretary reading a glossy magazine in the lunch room, he thought the day was beginning to look good. Flashing the blonde his best charm smile, he pulled out his 'World's Greatest FBI Agent' mug and moved over to the coffee machine, selecting the button for a long black. Turning to rest his hip on the bench, Booth was about to introduce himself when the coffee machine decided to bypass the mug and spit the coffee straight at him instead. In his surprise, Booth hit the rebellious machine and succeeded in having the mug crash to the floor, spilling more coffee over himself in the process.

Booth picked his way out of the mess and headed back to his office, lamenting the loss of his favourite mug. A young agent not watching where he was going had the misfortune of running into Booth, sending his glasses and a stack of papers flying. Booth rebuked the boy for his carelessness before taking a deep breath to calm himself down. He then casually mentioned the mess in kitchen and the young agent, anxious to please his superior, gathered his papers and scurried off towards the kitchen. Booth was almost smug as he continued towards his office; that is, until he remembered the sticky mess that was his shirt and ruined tie.

By lunch time, Booth had had enough of his office. He had a bandaid around his finger from where he'd managed to cut himself while opening letters, his fax machine stubbornly refused to work for him, and his shirt had a couple of blotches of blue ink to contrast with the coffee stain.

On returning from an uneventful lunch, Booth was greeted by the news that the suspect he had wanted brought in for questioning was downstairs. Buttoning his jacket in an attempt to hide the stains, he entered the interview room. He had just begun to question the suspect when Cullen and a lawyer burst into the room. One started blabbering on about diplomatic rights and immunity and the other backed Booth into a corner and yelled something about endangering diplomatic relationships. Booth had no choice but to watch his prime suspect walk away. In an attempt to ease his frustration he kicked the table but, in keeping with the theme of the day, that just resulted in a very sore toe and a slight limp.

It was pouring rain when Booth reached the Jeffersonian and found a car park in the far corner of the parking lot. He reached into the back seat, only to remember that he had lent Bones his umbrella while on a case. Running towards the entrance, Booth only tripped over one gutter, further injuring his already sore foot. Dashing up the stairs, he swore loudly as he ran into the glass door. To top it all off, his security card broke in two as he swiped it through the reader at the entrance to the squints' lab.

He made his way over to Bones, limping, stained, bandaged, dripping, broken card in hand, and with a lump beginning to form on his forehead.

Bones looked up from the skeleton and appraised Booth's appearance. Telling him to stay where he was, she headed to her office, promptly returning with a towel.

"Stop dripping on my lab floor."

Bones threw him the towel and launched into a detailed explanation of the skeleton on the table.

Booth smiled. He could always depend on his Bones.

* * *

Author's Note: This writing style is a little different from my usual style so I'd appreciate you view on whether it's easy to read. And whether, like me, you can picture these things happening to Booth. :-)


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